


Costumes: Not Just For Crime Fighting

by sergeant_angel



Series: Evil Eyes and Daring Dodos [3]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Hawkeye (Comics), Leverage, Marvel, Young Avengers
Genre: David Alleyne as Alec Hardison, Established Relationship, F/M, Halloween, Marvel/Leverage fusion, Mentions of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Multi, No Plot, Secret Relationship, discussions of inclusivity on the gay high holy day, mentions of Spike, mentions of d/s relationship, relentlessly schmoopy at the end, the Young Avengers are weird but they have people who love them, who needs plot when you can have fictional characters dressing up as other fictional characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 01:11:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5110922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sergeant_angel/pseuds/sergeant_angel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Bishop is hosting a Halloween Gala, Hawkeye is going just to make a point, and Nelson & Murdock have been invited.<br/>Or, sometimes the best you can hope for on Halloween is that your costume makes your pseudo-girlfriend feel better about her dad trying to kill her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Costumes: Not Just For Crime Fighting

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween! Unbeta'ed and written in about two days because I love thinking about what superheroes superheroes dress up as on Halloween.  
> This actually doesn't chronologically come second in the saga of Matt and Kate but I wanted to write something Halloween-y for Halloween. So, to set it up: Hawkeye and Daredevil are sort of working publicly together (to rampant speculation!) and in an attempt to distance themselves from their alter-egos, Matt and Kate are being a lot more secretive about their relationship.  
> (except the Young Avengers know everything because they're nosy and Matt has the bad luck to get sucked into their Adventures)

Foggy is talking up the firm to yet another rich, middle-aged man when Matt finds her.

Well, not _find,_ exactly. He’s still nodding and smiling next to Foggy and Karen but the combination of smell and movement and wingbeat-flutter of a heartbeat invade his senses.

Or maybe he’s just getting better at picking Kate out of a crowd.

“Matt,” Foggy jostles his shoulder. “Seriously? Pay attention, man. You’re spacing, I can tell. Something up?”

“Uh, no,” Matt shakes his head. “Not exactly.”

“Mr. Jameson!” Foggy calls. “Wow, it’s an honor to meet you—Matt, isn’t it an honor to meet him? I’m Franklin Nelson and this is my partner, Matt Murdock, of Nelson and Murdock—"

She’s wearing a corset. Matt has mixed feelings about Kate in corsets and the lung constriction but the way she moves in them—

Although she’d worn one a few months ago as back support because she’d gotten thrown on top of a dumpster and that wasn’t good. Usually, though, Kate in corsets involves him kneeling, hands bound, which: good.

He can’t figure out what she’s supposed to be, unless it’s some sort of period piece—there’s some sort of over-dress?—with a long skirt that slips across the skin of her legs with the faintest whisper of a sound.

Now he’s thinking about her legs—she’s in three inch heels and she always _struts_ in them.

And often asks him to carry her up the stairs because they’re murder on her knees. Matt also has suspicions about the heels being a ploy to initiate getting-carried-up-(or-down)-the-stairs wall sex where her shoes fall off. She likes the part where her shoes _thunk_ against the floor as they drop off of her feet, makes her shiver in this way that—

“—Matt?”

“What?” he shakes his head. “Sorry, Foggy. Just—overwhelmed by the noise.”

“Dude,” Foggy hisses. “That was J. Jonah Jameson! Get your head in the—oh. Hey, Kate.”

“Foggy. Karen. Matt. Are you having fun with the lockjaw vulture set yet?”

“It’s intense,” Karen says after a moment of awkward silence. “There’s a lot of. Um. Creep factor?”

“Anybody I need to put the hurt on?” Kate's smile is razor sharp as she flexes her hand.

“I think we’re good,” Karen tosses her hair back and puts her hands on her hips. “I mean, lasso of truth and all.”

“Which, by the way, is amazing. You are rocking the leather pants so hard it hurts.”

“Your corset’s better than mine, though,” Karen runs her hand along Kate’s side. “Wow. That’s serious. What is this? Is this also body armor? Holy crap.”

“What are you, though?” Foggy cuts in. “Figured you’d come as that—Hawkeye guy. You and Matt could have matched.”

Foggy says it with a straight face and no sarcasm; Matt chokes on his drink.

“All right there, Murdock?” Kate smacks his back a few times. “I was going to come as Black Widow but Billy said if he couldn’t go as Thor I couldn’t go as Natasha. I do like a good jumpsuit.”

“So what _are_ you—some sort of demon?” Karen fluffs Kate’s skirt out.

“Yup,” Kate puts a slim band on her head. “I had to take off my horns, they were giving me a headache. But there we go.”

“Oh, _cool_ ,” Karen circles Kate. “Matt, her dress has these sort of lace insets that are like a skeleton, and there’s a skeleton _tail_ on her train. I’m jealous.”

“Before I saw the tail I was thinking you were trying to be steampunk Daredevil,” Foggy deadpans. "Horns. Corset-y thing. Long skirt."

“Does Daredevil wear black? No, he does not,” Kate sniffs with actual indignation.

“Not any _more_ ,” Foggy’s voice takes a mutinous turn.

“Anyway,” Kate says over him. “You’re Clark Kent, I get that—Matt, who are you?”

“I was told no props,” he says, tugging the hood low over his face and attempting to look brooding but not too brooding.

“Oh my God,” Billy jogs over to them, shoving a glass at Kate. “You guys are the Justice League, right?” Billy makes an odd noise that might be him choking on a laugh. “Teddy is going to _flip_ when he sees your costume, Matt.”

.

“You’re very tall tonight,” Matt says as they sway on the dance floor.

“I want people to fear my footwear. Are you afraid of my shoes?”

“More than your shoes,” he spins her, reels her back in and she thumps a bit against his chest. Making sure he doesn’t look too graceful, too confident, or too much like he's actually leading her. They’re both good at this game.

Kate stays close for a minute, heart hammering and breathing hitching in the way that means _I want to kiss you right now swearing swearing secret identities curse word grumble grumble._

“I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this,” she says. “But I have a serious thing for combat pants tucked into boots.”

“Really?”

“On you, anyway.”

“Are you staring at my ass right now?”

“Matt, how could I be staring at your ass when I’m _dancing_ with you?”

“You used to,” he reminds her. “Back when I was still in the black getup. Not all the time, just—occasionally? Weren’t you?”

She answers with the growly-sigh from the back of her throat. Irritation, agitation, fondness. Corset. Probably biting, later. Kate’s teeth. His neck.

“If I was staring at anything I was staring at your shoulders.”

“Really.”

“Yes, really! Come on. Backs and shoulders, that’s archer stuff. Why else do you think I stand behind you when you’re cooking shirtless, or whatever?”

“Back and shoulders,” Matt muses, spreading his hand on her hip, feeling the boning of the corset, contemplating how easy it would be to grab her tight and hustle to the nearest stairwell. “I’m going to use this against you and walk around shirtless all the time.”

“You already don’t wear shirts because you bleed on everything,” the reminder is gentle, at odds with her sweaty palm and uneven breathing.

"What's bothering you?"

“I hate this,” her lips brush his ear. “The way he and I pretend nothing happened. This bullshit where we come here instead of doing something fun—“

“We can go, you know,” he points out. “You made your appearance. A terrifying and intimidating one. I’m sure he feels very—bad?—for putting a hit on you. You’ve done your part in the Rattle-Derek-Bishop category, so let’s go?”

“Yeah, but you should stay, you know. Hobnob. Rub elbows. Hand out business cards.”

“Already done.”

“Really?”

“Hey,” Billy pops up at Kate’s elbow, poking her in the side. “Rudeness. Didn’t anyone ever tell you you dance with the one that brung ya?”

“How do the Young Avengers usually spend Halloween?” Matt asks Billy while Kate groans, presumably at his use of ‘Young Avengers’.

“Oh, man,” Billy’s voice brightens, he bounces on his toes. “Seriously? Are we busting out? Can I call the assemble?” His phone is already out and at his ear. “Foggy and Karen, too?”

“Sure,” Kate’s resigned sigh is mostly for show. “Why not, right, Matt?”

.

David starts laughing when they’re still halfway across the bar.

“I didn’t realize you were at the coordinating costumes part of your relationship,” he says.

“Oh my God,” Kate presses to Matt’s side, her fingertips grazing his palm before stepping back as Foggy and Karen make it over. “We totally _didn’t_.”

“Yeah, okay, demon-lady.”

“Who’re you supposed to be?” Karen asks David, passing Matt a drink.

“Oh, hang on—“ David emits a piercing whistle and yells, “Babes!” over the din, then, “Tommy, you too!”

“I don’t get it,” Foggy says after a minute of staring at the assembled people.

“Oh! Sorry,” Parker fishes something out of her jacket—wooden, pointy—a stake?

Kate is shaking in silent laughter next to him, her face hidden behind her hand.

“In every generation—" Eliot starts.

“More British,” Tommy coaches.

“--there is a chosen one. She alone will stand--" Eliot continues in an appalling British accent, and Kate explodes with a shriek of hysterical laughter.

"David isn't broody enough," she finally manages.

“Kate, you’re ruining the moment,” Tommy chides, sitting next to her with a flourish of leather overcoat.

“ Tommy,” she says though her teeth, voice low enough that Foggy and Karen won’t hear. “Did you enlist America’s help to _actually borrow_ Spike’s coat for _Halloween_?”

“…no.”

“Tommy,” she muffles her laughter behind her hand again. “ _No_.”

“Okay, how can you even tell?”

Kate slides her hand down Tommy’s arm, fingering a hole in the leather. “I shot through the arm of the coat when he was being all ‘oooh I’m going to pick off the weakest gazelle and eat it’ or whatever. I can’t believe he let you borrow it.”

A very pointed silence from Tommy.

“I didn’t borrow it, as such,” he begins.

Kate’s shoulders drop the way they do when she’s about to say something biting. Matt squeezes her hand under the table, mollifying her enough to earn a downgrade to exasperated sigh. “When Buff calls me to talk about how Spike is crying in a bathtub because he can’t find his coat—"

“Parker did it!”

“Wow,” Parker is suddenly behind them. “Remind me never to take you to steal art, if you’re gonna roll on me like that.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Matt says. Kate squeezes his knee and trails the backs of her fingers up his leg which is when he starts plotting out the least-congested route home, listening to which streets are less crowded and taking into account the three-inch heels and her corset—

“Hey, you guys,” Billy interrupts. “We’re toasting. Happy—"

“Gay Christmas!” Tommy finishes.

David and Kate sigh in the exact same way.

“ _Queer_ Christmas,” David corrects.

“Or QUILTBAG Christmas,” Kate shakes her head.

“QUILTBAG Christmas makes it sound like we’re crafters,” Tommy swirls the ice in the bottom of his glass. “Or maybe Amish? Like an Amish romance novel.”

“I like quilts,” Parker muses.

“Gay High Holy day sounds better,” Billy argues.

“If you get Gay High Holy Day then we get Queer Christmas,” Kate says.

“QUILTBAG Christmas,” Parker corrects.

“I vote for QUILTBAG Christmas, too,” Eliot adds.

Matt can _feel_ how hard Kate is holding back from growling or groaning or putting them all in headlocks.

“All in favor of QUILTBAG Christmas?” Kate allows herself a bit of a sigh.

“Aye,” chorus Teddy, David, Parker, Eliot, and Foggy.

“I think the ayes have it,” Karen declares, laughing. “You guys are so weird.”

Verbal chaos ensues with Avengers and grifters arguing about their weirdness, or lack thereof.

"I love your costume, by the way," she murmurs.

Matt leans towards Kate, kissing her cheek as he whispers in her ear, “Happy Halloween, Hawkeye.”

She smiles, and _that_ is just as distracting as the corset and the heels; the way her lips curl tight against her teeth and her nose wrinkles a little, the way it changes her breathing when she’s trying not to smile as hard as she wants to. There’s a phantom sense-memory in his fingertips, the feel of her dimple, the way her cheeks move. It’s the best smile.

“Happy Halloween, Daredevil.”

**Author's Note:**

> There was an imagine that was something along the lines of "Imagine Matt getting distracted by your Halloween costume" and someone was like "how, he's blind??" and naturally the answer is CORSETS AND LUXURY FABRICS. 
> 
>  
> 
> Matt is absolutely dressed up as Green Arrow. I hope everyone else is clear, let me know!


End file.
